“Do you want to save that woman or don’t you? Are you going to flake out on me and just let them take her? Cause if you want her dead, I have a much more efficient method.” Starke pulled the handgun from its comfortable place on his back.
Markus balked, plastering himself up against the back of the couch. He’d probably never even seen a gun before, other than the guard’s holstered guns.
Starke stuffed his gun back into its place and settled on a death glare. If Markus couldn’t keep his head, he’d be absolutely no help.
“What happened to your contacts?” Markus asked, his voice firm for once.
Waving vaguely at the window, Starke shook his head. “Guard-pocalypse. If there are any who haven’t been tossed into the Pit or vented by now, we’d both end up that way if I tried to talk to them.”
“So why are you talking to me?” Markus asked, his face fixed to something close to bravery. Not bravery. Stubbornness, which was pretty close to bravery for the coward that he was.
“I figured you might give a shit.” Starke glowered at the tiny man. He could just yell the truth in the streets, but that would only accomplish a panic and a massacre. If Markus did his part, Starke could keep the guards distracted while Markus began sowing the seeds.
“I have… plans. A way out. I have set some things into effect that…well…” Markus rubbed his hand over his face. It shook.
What was he trying to say?
“You are going to the Pit?” Starke asked. “Or are you trying to just avoid the guards on the day of? What is the idea here?”
“I have made an…arrangement… with some of the authorities. They have agreed to refrain from…um. They have agreed…”
There was no way that the City would have agreed to what Markus was suggesting without him having something in exchange. Even just the fact that he brought it up should have been enough to get him killed along with everyone else. They would have viewed it as rebellion, seen him as a risk. Starke’s chest ached as he turned the possibilities over in his head.
According to Dubois the City knew there was a threat to their authority. That was why they had cracked down like they had. And they only way they could have known that is if they had inside info. Starke hadn’t had the chance to spread the word yet. All together, it indicated one person. One rat.
“What did you do?”
Markus cowered for a moment, staring at his fingers and mumbling something under his breath.
“I said…” Starke reached for his gun again and Markus immediately sat ramrod straight.
“They were criminals. Dangerous men. If anyone deserved to die, it was them. I exchanged Dahlia’s life for theirs.”
Heat raced along Starke’s arms and chest. So many men and women, gone. Maybe they had been executed. That was actually pretty likely, if they were having a resource shortage. At the very least, they were thrown out of the community, forced into the Pit where they would have to scrape and fight to survive. Most wouldn’t. A few of those who had been taken were just kids. People he’d sold supplies to. Some were struggling to make ends meet, to keep from getting pushed further down the Tiers, like he himself was. Or trying to earn enough money to support sick and aging family members.
All because Markus had to take matters into his own hands.
Starke paced, kicking the floor every few steps. This was his fault. He knew Markus wasn’t trustworthy. He should have assumed that he would have chosen himself above everyone else. That was how his mind worked. He was a piece of shit coward.
“It wasn’t just to save her,” Markus continued, turning his eyes back to his hands. “They gave us the documents we wanted. We can start a family.”
Realization hit Starke like a bullet. They gave him his perfect little second-chance-family on top of everything else. What if the only way he could get that new family was to destroy his former one? He wouldn’t hesitate. He’d done it once.
“They must have wanted to know how you found out.” He faced up to Markus, narrowing his eyes.
The color drained from Markus’ cheeks. “They…um.”
The air evaporated right out of Starke’s lungs. They knew? Of course they knew. Markus hadn’t just warned them of the conspiracy, he’d named names. The only names he knew. Starke’s name.
Starke doubled over, planting his hands on his knees. Why hadn’t they come yet? Were they looking for evidence? Did they even care? Why hadn’t they already arrested him?
And Cowl? No. No. No. No.
Starke shook his head, dislodging the panic that clawed through his brain like a Wrecker. His limbs seemed to act on their own accord. He crossed the room in the space of one loud heartbeat and wrenched Markus off the couch.
“You asshole! Worm. Coward! Is there even a word low enough for you?” Starke dragged Markus towards him, so close the smell of his breath burned his nostrils. With one hand tangled up in Markus’ shirt, he pulled his gun and pressed it to the pale man’s temple.
Markus scrambled against Starke’s grip, but he was a weakling. He spent his days negotiating food shipments and haggling over how many cows needed to be slaughtered the next quarter. Starke lifted metal beams and welded slabs of siding in place. There was no contest.
Markus’ nails raked across Starke’s skin as he tried to escape. Starke threw Markus into the coffee table, sending him toppling and sprawling onto the floor.
Before he could even register what he was doing, Starke dropped a knee onto his chest and delivered a blow to Markus’ face.
Markus yelled, his voice garbled by the blood spurting out of his mouth. He raised his arms to shield his face. “Please…p..p..”
Starke pulled one arm down. “Can you even understand what you just did?” He slammed his fist into Markus’ cheekbone, sucking in a sharp breath as his knuckles slid off the blood and collided with the floor.
Markus cried, his body shuddering violently as sobs wracked him. “I’m sorry. I’m…sorry.”
“They’ll kill Cowl. Do you understand that? Did you wrap your tiny, inhuman brain around that before you ratted me out?”
Cowering behind his arms, Markus continued his pleas. Starke turned the gun over in his hands. If anyone deserved to die, it was Markus. Never before had he wanted to pull the trigger more, either. But it was too late now. He should have done that the moment Markus stepped back through the door. He never would have even known about the culling and Cowl would be safe from all this.
The City would come for Starke, at least. And if they went looking, they would find info about the culling on Cowl’s tablets.
Starke stood up abruptly.
Sure, Markus deserved to die, but he wasn’t going to kill his own father, even if the man didn’t deserve the title. Starke was a better man than that. But it was his job to protect his family, and he’d do that no matter what.
“The next time I see your face, I’ll put a bullet through it. You got that?” he said.
Markus peeled his arms away from his blood-painted face and stared up at Starke with horror in his red eyes. “You’d better pray that they come for me because this is a really small world.”
Starke shoved his gun back into its holster and wiped his split knuckles on his shirt. If he was going to save Cowl, he had to act fast.
Chapter Five: Let the Games Begin
The guards didn’t leave Dubois’ pod empty-handed. Starke struggled to contain the rising fear in his chest as the door opened and Dubois, face as pale as death, was pushed through the door.
That was his fault. Shit.
How could they even have known Dubois was involved? According to Cowl, all the cams were off the last few times he’d gone to Dubois. Cowl knew, no questions asked, to clean any of that kind of activity off the records.
Markus hadn’t even known about Dubois. Still, here they were. He would probably be dead in a few short hours.
From a life of power to death in a matter of minutes. If he knew what had given him away, he’d try to stop the inevita
ble, but what could he do now?
Without waiting to see more, Starke turned down the hall and headed back to the pod.
What now? Dubois was his last chance. Even if the City bothered to look for evidence, which they had no need to do, it would only end up incriminating Cowl too. He’d tried to play the hero, and look where it had gotten him.
Losing Cowl wasn’t an option.
What if they just threw Starke out of the Hub? If he was in the Pit, he could still make a good life for Mom and Cowl up here. Run supplies back and forth. He’d have to up his turnovers to cover what he lost working maintenance, but that wouldn’t be hard. Maintenance was always more of a cover than anything.
But the City wasn’t stupid. They knew about his little side business. They had to. He’d even sold to guards before. They’d tolerated it because it wasn’t hurting them, but there was no way they would risk him being alive if he could just bust back into Bunker whenever he wanted.
No, they would execute him.
What if he just jumped ahead of them and moved himself to the Pit? He’d have to be a lot more careful, sure, but he could still get in and out.
But if he left, they would still be able to go through his shit, which would point them to Cowl. If he was going to leave, he’d have to take Cowl with him. And if they were both gone…Mom was having a hard time as it was. He wouldn’t be there to cover for her. She would probably get bumped down into the Tiers.
Starke’s stomach clenched as he reached the door of the pod. No guards there yet. At least, none that he could see. For how long was that going to last? He was an idiot to even come back.
Shoving the fear out in a single, heavy sigh, Starke waited for the door to open. The computer knew he was home. If the computer knew, the City would know. He should turn back now.
A sharp laugh drifted out of the house, followed by the unmistakable scent of baking cookies. Cookies? When was the last time Mom had baked?
Starke paused in the doorway and stared at the scene unfolding inside. The house was clean. Other than Cowl’s pants hanging halfway out the bedroom door and a few scuffs on the carpet, it almost looked like a brand new home.
A small pile of clean dishes sat on one side of the sink, a bowl half-full of cookie dough on the other. Mom turned to look at him, mid-laugh, a spoon full of dough barely contained in her mouth.
Flour covered her cheeks, though for once they seemed to have some color underneath.
She swallowed her mouthful of sweets and the smile slipped off her face. Starke ached for it. It had been far too long since he’d been in the same room as that smile.
“Are you ok, Babe?” she asked.
Babe? That was fine. She could call him whatever she wanted if it brought that laughter back.
“I’m fine,” Starke said, kicking his boots off at the door. “What did I miss? What’s so funny?”
“Your face,” Cowl said from where he drooped over the arm of the sofa.
“Be nice,” Mom chided.
Sucking in a deep breath, Starke slipped his arm around Mom’s shoulders and pulled her into his chest. She was soft and clean. Everything he remembered her to be when he was little. Something that had been missing for months. She smelled like honey. At first she stiffened, maybe from surprise, before she slipped her hands under Starke’s arms and wrapped them around his back. She tucked her nose into his neck and breathed out a huff of warm breath. It was pure strength she breathed into him.
“Starke, what’s wrong?” Her voice was muffled against his skin.
Starke squeezed her tighter. He could tell her the truth. Tell her that any moment there could be a knock on the door and the guards would walk in for him. Tell her that he’d utterly failed everything he’d set out to do. That he’d tried to be a hero, and instead he’d cost even more lives. That one of those lives might be Cowl’s.
But that smile was too genuine. Too rare. She would lose it soon enough. One more time, just one more, it was his burden to carry alone.
The City wouldn’t worry about evidence when they took him. He was a nobody. Cowl, though, was already invaluable to them. He could code circles around anyone in that computer lab, teacher or student. They needed him. Before they arrested him, they would search for real evidence.
And if every piece of evidence pointed at Starke, they might never go digging for more.
Starke reluctantly shrugged out of Mom’s arms. “It was just a rough day at work,” he said. “What is this? What are we celebrating?”
Mom smiled again, though it seemed sadder this time. The depression was still there. Stuffed into the corners. Ready to burst like an overfilled bag. She was just hiding it. “You don’t remember? What, you aren’t that old yet.”
“No, he’s just stupid.” Cowl hung his head upside down until the mess on his head brushed against the floor.
“Starke. It’s your birthday today.” Mom leaned over and pulled open the oven, releasing the strong scent of tomato and cheese. “I wanted to sit down together, but the food was done a while ago so…we went ahead without you. I’m sorry. But I made your favorite.”
She extracted a casserole dish full of bubbling sauce and cheese. Chicken Parmesan. Was this a Sim? The last time they had celebrated anything was Cowl’s graduation, two years ago. Mom hadn’t even cooked. The neighbor dropped off a casserole. She worked late that day. So had he.
“And cookies. From scratch. With pecans, even though we don’t like them.” She flashed him a smile, but the joy was gone from her face.
How could he bring it back? Get another glimpse before it was all over.
“Those and raisins are the reason why I have trust issues,” Cowl said.
No, that was Markus. It was too late to save him from everything.
Mom waved a hand at Cowl “Of course, as you can see, your brother doesn’t seem to think much about my request that he be nice to you.”
Cowl grinned. “And dampen my sparkling wit? You know it’s not a party without me.”
Starke tugged his coveralls off. “I guess I’ll just have to teach him a lesson.”
Cowl sat up. “Mom! He’s gonna kill me. Do something.”
“Oh no. You deserve what you get.” Mom leaned onto the counter and reached for the plate of cooling cookies. “You should know better than to antagonize your brother.”
“No. Help. I’m being attacked by a neanderthal.” The words came out in a burst, followed by a yelp as Starke shoved Cowl back onto the couch before he could escape. He vaulted over the armrest and settled his ass square on Cowl’s face.
Cowl wriggled like a broken pressure hose, his yells muffled.
“I can’t breathe!” he yelled, just barely audible around Starke’s stained pants.
“Just wait.” Starke grinned as he let a forceful fart out into Cowl’s squashed face.
Writhing violently, Cowl shoved Starke off him and leaned over the edge of the couch, gagging. “What the hell, bro?”
Mom laughed uproariously. A real laugh. “I raised two complete heathens.” She shook her head.
Cowl tackled Starke’s shoulders, but for all his shit talk he was still just a skinny kid. Starke grabbed him by the waist and slammed him into the carpet.
Half-heartedly, Cowl swung a few more times at Starke’s chest. “This is how civilization ends.”
Starke pinned him down and grinned at him. “The way I see it, all you squishy, soft, brainiacs are the first to go. You see, Wreckers like their meat tender.”
Cowl rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure every inch of me is tainted after that. And they sure as hell won’t touch you.”
He shoved free of Starke’s grip and rubbed his nose, as if trying to clear the remnants of the fart. “That’s it. I think I’ve solved our Wrecker problem. Just let a few of those rip Topside and you’ll kill everything in the universe.”
Chuckling, Starke pushed himself to his feet again. “That’s a pretty good plan. And if that doesn’t work, you can show them your face.
”
“Har, har. You are so hilarious.” Cowl rubbed his face vigorously. “Shit. I can still taste it. I need a mint or something.”
“Come on, Starke. Leave your brother alone and get something to eat.”
Warmth flooded into Starke’s body at the words. This is what family was. This is what he was going to be protecting. Sure, he could survive if he took off to the Pit, took them with him. They would probably be ok with it, too. But that wasn’t good enough. Mom and Cowl deserved a million more days like this. Celebrations for both of them. Birthdays, promotions, weddings…just normal days with laughter and jokes gone just a bit too far.
With him here, Cowl got guns and pot and runs into the Pit. People killed right in front of him. Maybe if Starke was out of the picture things could get better. At the very least, they wouldn’t get much worse. Not like it would be if he tried to drag them into the Pit to save his hide.
And there it was.
Mom’s smile, a real one, stayed in place as Starke pulled up a bar stool and looked down at the steaming plate of food. Pride radiated through every inch of her body as he dug his fork into the pile and took the biggest bite he could manage.
“I just wish we could have enjoyed it together.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Work went late.” The lie almost ruined the taste of the sauce-smothered noodles. Almost.
“Don’t say sorry, I know how it is.” Mom picked another cookie off the plate. “You know, I don’t even like these.” She took a bite and turned to the last few dishes.
Starke let the scene play out for a moment. Mom, bent over the sink with her hands dug into the multi-colored suds. Cowl, snagging a fork out of the freshly cleaned dishes and reaching it towards Starke’s plate.
The perfect moment. If this was one of his last, he couldn’t have chosen a better one if he’d tried.
“Hey, you. Out of my dinner.” Starke slapped away the fork as it made another pass at his chicken. Poor Cowl, he was a growing kid and he mostly just got Starke’s cooking. That’s probably what stunted his growth.
Starke couldn’t play around in this idyllic dreamscape long. Eventually the guards would come, and he needed to be ready.
Infraction Page 6